Monthly Archives: April 2025

Wicked Truths: The Side of the Story We Never Hear

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I recently watched Wicked for the second time. And it still, exceeded my expectation. The visuals were dazzling and had my heart pounding. The songs especially Unlimited and Defying Gravity had me smiling like it was the first time. And the lines? Even wittier, even sharper than I remembered.

I walked into the theatre expecting entertainment with maybe a sprinkle of  The Wizard of Oz nostalgia. What I didn’t expect was to walk out with a journal full of questions about human nature, courage, and the stories we choose to believe about others, and ourselves. It left me holding a mirror up to my own heart. Because more than the green face paint and broomsticks, Wicked is a story about perception, prejudice, power, and most of all TRUTH.

Here are the reflections that stayed with me long after the curtain closed.

Born This Way?
One of the most striking questions raised in the play is: Are people born wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?
It’s haunting, but also liberating to consider that we are born with a clean slate. Innocent. Curious. Capable of great love and great light. And yet through judgment, rejection, misunderstanding, then white starts turning into gray. What starts out pure slowly distorts.

Elphaba wasn’t wicked. She was simply different. And that was enough for the world to turn against her.

The Power of Being Seen
There’s a moment when Elphaba unintentionally unleashes her powers, causing a stir in the classroom. People are scared. But instead of punishing her, her teacher sees something else: TALENT.

It hit me hard. Because how often do we confuse unfamiliar with dangerous? How we silence the extraordinary because it shows up in ways we don’t expect.
All it took was one voice to say, “You have something special.” And in that moment, Elphaba’s life takes a new direction. Sometimes, that’s all it takes, to be seen, to be spoken to. It’s a quiet nudge to all of us. Never underestimate the power of being seen. Never underestimate the power our words hold to another life.

Unlimited: A Song, A Mindset
“Unlimited. My future is unlimited…”
It’s more than a lyric, it’s a reminder.

Our past does not define the ceiling of our future. Even when others try to limit us, even when we doubt ourselves, there is always space to grow beyond what’s been written for us.
Believing in what’s possible is where transformation begins.

Dr. Dillamond : When Voices are Silenced.
“If you make it discouraging enough, you can keep anyone silent.” — Dr. Dillamond, Wicked

The talking goat professor, Dr. Dillamond, finds himself gradually silenced. His very identity is threatened, and eventually, he’s removed from his position.

It’s subtle, yet painful. Discouragement doesn’t always shout, it often whispers. And when the system repeatedly tells someone they don’t belong, the easiest thing to do is to fade away. Sometimes, oppression doesn’t come as a roar. It comes as a whisper that tells us to keep quiet, play small, or stay in line.

When discouragement grows loud enough, it can muzzle even the wisest voices.

His story is a warning: when voices are quieted, we all lose a bit of our collective wisdom.

The Wizard and the Trap of Applause
The Wizard of Oz wasn’t evil, per se. He was just caught. Caught in the facade. Caught in the praise. Caught in the version of himself that others believed in.

When people told him he was “wonderful,” he didn’t correct them. He leaned into the illusion, because who wouldn’t want to be adored? Eventually, the illusion swallowed him whole.
It’s a cautionary tale for any of us chasing approval. It’s dangerously easy to become a prisoner of the persona we create to please others. And I’m reminded … I only need an Audience of One. I don’t need the applause of many or anyone because I have Him who knows me. His applause is louder than any uproar. Whenever I feel the pull for approval, I return to this truth: I don’t need to be loud to be seen by the One who truly knows me. This song keeps me grounded :

I don't need my name in lights
I'm famous in my Father's eyes
Make no mistake
He knows my name
I'm not living for applause
I'm already so adored
It's all His stage
He knows my name oh, oh
He knows my name oh, oh

I'm not meant to just stay quiet
I'm meant to be a lion
I'll roar beyond a song
With every moment that I've got
True to who You are
You saw my heart
And made
Something out of nothing
- He Knows My Name by Francesca Battistelli

Defying Gravity: The Courage to Rise
Of course, Wicked’s most iconic anthem is Defying Gravity. And it’s not just a song about flying, it’s about rising.
Rising above judgment.
Rising above fear.
Rising above who the world says you’re supposed to be.

It’s that defining moment we all face at some point where we stop waiting for permission and choose to live truthfully, even if it means flying solo.

The Other Side of the Story
But if there’s one takeaway that truly left an imprint on me, it’s this:
There is always another side to the story.

Elphaba was labeled as “wicked,” but the truth never made it to the spotlight. Her reputation was built on lies, her actions twisted by those in power. And it makes you wonder … how many people in real life are living under labels they never asked for?

How many “villains” are just misunderstood?
How many “outcasts” are simply walking a different path?

It reminded me that judgment is easy but context is everything. Behind every story is another version waiting to be heard. And behind every person is a history we don’t see.

So maybe the question isn’t “Is she wicked?”
Maybe it’s: “What don’t I know yet?”

Wicked isn’t just a reimagining of Oz. It’s a challenge. A call to question how we define good and evil, how we treat those who are different, and how quickly we accept one version of the truth.
And maybe that’s what Wicked ultimately teaches us:
That truth isn’t always what’s seen. That judgment is often louder than understanding.
And that the most radical thing we can do is pause, lean in, and look again.

Because behind every label is a life.
And behind every “wicked” face is a story still unfolding.

And maybe, just maybe, the most courageous thing we can do is to defy the gravity of assumption and CHOOSE COMPASSION instead.

Let these words remind us:

“The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
— 1 Samuel 16:7 (NIV)

Weak Hero Class 1 : What If The Villain Was Just … Broken?

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“What If We Stopped Asking ‘What’s Wrong with You?’ and Started Asking ‘What Happened to You?’“

My nieces had been telling me for the longest time to watch WEAK HERO CLASS1, raving that it’s “one of the best dramas ever!” I dismissed it for a while but then came the announcement of Season 2, and when I saw Season 1 pop up on Netflix, I gave in.

Episode 1 felt a bit strange at first. “This is it?” I thought. Just another bullying-centered show? But I stayed. And slowly, I understood. Weak Hero Class 1 wasn’t just a bullying drama. It was a mirror. A raw, unflinching mirror of youth – angsty, vulnerable, silent in their battles. The drama hit deep. Beneath the fists and flying kicks was a cry for help, a reflection of brokenness that many people hide behind strong fronts.

The lead character Si Eun, quickly caught my attention. e brainy kid, withdrawn and emotionless, but quietly resisting. There’s Su Ho, an MMA fighter with enough guts in school but keeps low key (not to mention Su Ho was so handsome). But what shook me most was the character that most people hate: Beom Seok.

Beom Seok: The Character I Pity The Most

Many viewers dismissed him as weak, unstable, or even vile in the end. But to me, he was a tragedy. A child so used to abuse and neglect that when love finally came, he didn’t know how to hold it.

Beom Seok had been bullied in his former school. Worse, he was bullied twice as hard at home. His own father beat him and belittled him physically, emotionally, psychologically. So when he found friendship in Si Eun and Su Ho, it was like finally finding sunlight after being stuck in a basement for years. But sunlight, when you’re used to darkness, can feel blinding.

He started doubting his place. A small thing like Su Ho not following him back on Instagram triggered deep insecurity. Petty to some, but to a wounded heart, it was proof of rejection. Add to that the voice of the loan shark mocking him “You’re just a minion” and the toxic self-doubt his father instilled in him took over.

The night his father beat him with a golf club was the same night his “friends” bonded without him. They didn’t mean harm, but in his pain, it was betrayal. Salt on an open wound. And in his festering hurt, the monster inside awakened until he did the unthinkable … sending Su Ho into a coma.

I stared at that scene, disturbed not because of the violence. But because I could understand how he got there.

Lessons That Hit Close to Home

1. Social media has distorted our sense of connection.
Beom Seok believed Su Ho didn’t value their friendship just because he didn’t follow him back on Instagram. It sounds absurd until we realize how many people today measure relationships through likes, tags, and online attention.

In real life, people feel rejected when their message is “seen” but not replied to. Or when a close friend posts a happy moment without them. These tiny moments online breed giant insecurities offline.

But connection runs deeper than social validation. Su Ho showed his care through action, defending Beom Seok, checking up on him, even confronting his old bullies. But Beom Seok missed all that because he was tuned into the wrong channel: the one called insecurity.

2. The voice in your head can either heal you or destroy you.
We all talk to ourselves. But for some, the voice inside isn’t kind. Beom Seok heard the same degrading words his father used on him over and over … until they felt like truth.

That’s why community matters. Real, healthy friendship is where we can say, “I’m not okay,” and not be judged. A safe space to just be who we are. A place to silence the wrong voices by speaking truth out loud.

Imagine if Beom Seok had opened up:
If he had just said: “I feel left out. I feel like you don’t care about me.”
Would things have turned out differently?

Many people today feel just like him. They don’t speak because they’re afraid they’ll be seen as weak or dramatic. But silence is the perfect breeding ground for lies. We need people around us who won’t just hear us but help us hear what’s real.

3. Everyone has a context—no one becomes broken for no reason.
Beom Seok wasn’t born a villain. He was a boy with wounds no one saw. Every kick he gave to Su Ho was a cry for help. A punch of pain he never processed. A desperate attempt to matter.
Hurt people hurt people. It’s not an excuse but for some if not many, it explains the pain that shaped them.

Beom Seok didn’t want to hurt Su Ho. He loved Su Ho. But that love, twisted by fear and insecurity, exploded. The scene where he’s crying over Su Ho’s unconscious body broke me. It wasn’t just guilt … it was grief. Grief over what he lost, and over what he had never been taught: how to receive love.

How many people today lash out not because they’re cruel, but because they’ve never been shown what love truly is?
How many are angry simply because no one ever made them feel safe enough to be soft?

Si Eun understood.
Despite everything, Si Eun tried to keep the friendship. He told Su Ho, “Understand him a little.”
Because he knew. He knew what it was like to be numb, broken, angry and just needing someone to stay.

Weak Hero Class 1 isn’t just about high school fights. It’s about how fragile we all are behind the masks.
It’s about the battles people fight in silence.
It’s about Beom Seok … a boy who just wanted to be loved, but when he finally found, didn’t know how to believe it.

And maybe, that’s the saddest thing of all.

Watching this drama didn’t just give me entertainment, it gave me perspective. I couldn’t help but think: how many Beom Seoks are around us today? People who look fine on the outside but are actually carrying invisible bruises? People whose silence is not indifference, but fear? Whose anger is not hate, but heartbreak?

My personal takeaway is this … we need to be slower to judge and quicker to listen. Behind every difficult person is often a deep pain. And while pain doesn’t excuse harm, understanding it can be the start of healing, not just for them, but for us too.

I realized all the more how important it is to be a safe space for others. To check in even when someone pushes you away. To speak life when all they hear is condemnation. To follow up not just on Instagram but in real life.

So here’s my quiet call to action:

Be someone who sees beyond the surface.
Be someone who listens without immediately trying to fix.
Be someone who chooses compassion, even when it’s easier to walk away.

Because sometimes, what a person needs most isn’t a solution.
Just someone who stays, even when the monster shows up.

Let’s be the kind of friend that reminds others:
You are not alone. You are seen. You are loved.

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”
— Wendy Mass

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience… And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”
— Colossians 3:12,14 (NIV)

Strangers, Strengths, and “I Love You’s”

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From First Meet to Family in 48 Hours

It was a short weekend. Blink, and it passed. But it’s the kind that lingers long after the goodbyes.

A group of friends, some of them strangers to us just days ago, flew in from Cebu for a quick visit. Some of them were first-timers in Singapore. You’d think they’d spend their first day exploring the sights. But no. Their first stop? A quiet hospital room, visiting one of our own who had been confined. They didn’t know him personally, but it didn’t matter. Somehow, in a room filled with strangers, it felt like family. Love has a way of cutting across introductions.

That moment struck me. When people share a common heart for something bigger than themselves, it doesn’t take long for connection to happen. It’s like skipping the small talk and jumping straight to the part where you feel safe, seen, and supported.

Throughout the weekend, stories flowed about joys, struggles, and the small victories of everyday life. Each outreach, each little pocket of people from different cities, has its own share of challenges. But in the sharing, there was learning. In the listening, strength. What one group is strong at becomes a light for the other. What one is weak in becomes a shared prayer. And just like that, each calling, each community, gets a little more fortified.

And then there’s the men from the Cebu team. What a surprise they were. Loud, fun, full of life, and full of love. They teased one another, hugged without hesitation, and ended their conversations with “I love you.” I watched, quietly amused, then deeply moved. It’s rare to see that kind of brotherhood. Rare, and beautiful. It made me wonder: if more men loved this openly, how different would our families be? our communities be? our world be?

So yes, it was a short weekend. But it packed something big. It reminded me that people don’t have to journey together long to matter to one another. Sometimes, all it takes is a shared purpose, a little vulnerability, and the courage to say, “I’m here for you,” even if we just met.

And maybe, just maybe, say “I love you” while we’re at it.

Because at the end of the day, what binds us is love … GENUINE, UNSELFISH, and ENDURING.


As the Scripture reminds us:

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” —John 13:35

The March That Mattered

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A reminder that marching on is not just one bold move, but many small, faithful ones.

Before 2024 ended, my friends and I asked ourselves a simple but powerful question: “What will your 2025 headline be?” It was our way of manifesting what we wanted to see ourselves achieving in 2025. Mine was: “From holding back to marching on.” Bold. Hopeful. Scary.

You see, I had dreams tucked away for too long, one of which is stepping into professional speaking, a passion rooted in my desire to inspire and encourage others. After joining the Get Paid to Speak bootcamp, I felt like I had finally taken the first step. I imagined speaking in workshops or conferences, writing a book or even a shallow but equally big dream of emceeing a fan meet … Dreams that once felt distant now seemed within reach.

But then came the whispers:
“Can I really do this?”
“What do I have to offer?”
The familiar hesitation returned, dressed up as busyness and doubts. Until one day, just before the new year, I told myself:
“Enough. I have to march on.”

I declared 2025 as the year I’d finally start … intentionally, courageously.

Then January passed. February. And in a blink, Q1 was over.
Work picked up speed.
Travel came back into the picture.
My Wednesday prayer nights often clashed with meetings and commitments.
It felt like the stars weren’t aligning.
Not yet.

Tonight, at our Wednesday prayer night, we were asked:
“What’s your biggest answered prayer for the first quarter?”
For a moment, I couldn’t think of anything.
Time flew by. What did I accomplish? Did I even move?
And then I remembered March.

A group of students, aged 14 to 18, visited from a school in the Philippines. I was invited to speak to them – no formal topic, just a short talk about being a “Global Filipino.” And as I stood there, sharing my heart with these young dreamers, I felt something sparked within me once again … JOY. PURPOSE. FIRE.

It hit me … this was it.
This was an answered prayer.

Because more than just being able to speak, I had the opportunity to inspire. Not just to push them toward worldly success, but to question the “why” behind their dreams. I reminded them that being a Global Filipino isn’t just about how far you can go but how many people you uplift along the way.

That same Sunday, we brought these students to Lucky Plaza to meet our fellow Filipino OFWs. I watched their eyes open to the pain, strength, and sacrifices of our kababayans. That encounter didn’t just move them, it inspired them and deepened their dreams.

To cap off March, I took a trip to Hong Kong with friends, and once again found myself in the heart of Central, surrounded by hardworking OFWs, each one with a story, a sacrifice, a hope. I carried with me a quiet ache and a growing question: How can we help our kababayans here too?

So here I am, closing Q1 of 2025 with no big speeches.
No emcee gigs.
No book launch.
None Yet.
But I am grateful. Because maybe this quarter wasn’t about doing something grand,
but about remembering why I wanted to start in the first place.

My heart still beats for people.
And in a fast-paced world like Singapore, where it’s easy to grow numb, that alone is a gift.
To still feel.
To still care.
To still long to serve.
From holding back to marching on … maybe that’s not just a one-time leap, but a step-by-step journey.
And this was my first step.
A reminder that marching on is not just one bold move but many small, faithful ones.

As I reflect on this journey, I’m reminded that even the quietest acts of obedience matter. That our not-yets still hold purpose. And our small yeses, strung together, can move mountains. Because in the end, it’s not always about how far we’ve gone but that we’ve chosen to begin and to keep going. Even if we don’t see the full picture yet. Even if the timing feels off or the path still feels unclear. What matters is that we move. In faith. In love. With purpose

As one wise voice once said:
“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

And in those steps especially the quiet, unseen ones, we hold on to this promise:
“And let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” – Galatians 6:9 (NIV)